


The Bright Place

by AgentGreenBean (agentgreenbean), IveAlwaysBeenAfraidOfHeights (agentgreenbean)



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast), The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Moral Philosophy, Welcome! Nothing Is Fine, not sure what tags to put on this but i'll add more later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentgreenbean/pseuds/AgentGreenBean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentgreenbean/pseuds/IveAlwaysBeenAfraidOfHeights
Summary: Owen finds himself in the utopian afterlife called the Good Place. The thing is, though...He definitely doesn't belong there.
Relationships: Joan Bright/Owen Thompson | Agent Green, Samantha Barnes/Mark Bryant
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: BrightGreen Fanfics, Owen Green





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my really self-indulgent The Good Place AU! Things are a bit confusing now, but they'll make sense in a bit. Also, you don't need to have watched The Good Place to read this, it just might really help.

Owen opened his eyes, and found himself in an unfamiliar room. Despite that, he was surprisingly comfortable. The wall ahead of him read 'Welcome! Everything is Fine.' and he believed that. The door on one side of the room clicked open and a man poked his head in, smiling.

"Owen? Come on in," he welcomed, disappearing back into the other room. Owen stood up and followed him, looking around curiously. The man sat at a desk and Owen sat in the chair across from it, folding his hands politely. 

"Hi, Owen, I'm Michael. How are you today?" Owen noticed that Michael was wearing a bowtie that looked like peacock feathers. Strange.

"I'm good, thank you for asking. Um, where are we, exactly?" The initial comforting atmosphere was starting to wear off.

"Oh, yes. So, you, Owen Thompson, are dead. Your time on Earth has ended, and you are now in your next phase of existence in the universe," Michael explained. Owen blinked at him in shock, trying to wrap his head around the whole concept.

"So… I'm dead, I died, and this is the afterlife?" He repeated the information in the hopes that it would help him comprehend it. It didn't.

Michael only made everything more confusing by saying, "yes. And depending on how good you were in life, you can end up in either the Good Place or the Bad Place. This is the Good Place."

Now Owen had all of that to unpack. What if someone he knew ended up in the Bad Place? How was it decided that someone was 'good' or 'bad'? How did he even end up in what was essentially heaven? 

"That's– that's wonderful," he exclaimed instead of asking any of his questions.

"It sure is. Now come on, let's take a walk." Michael stood up and Owen followed him through a door into what appeared to be the middle of a city. He looked around in pure awe at the perfect architecture, the various stores that sold various amazing things.

"The Good Place is divided into distinct neighbourhoods. Each neighbourhood has exactly 322 people, and is tailored exactly to their needs." Michael pointed at a group of people eating on a restaurant patio, smiling and laughing. One of them waved, and Owen waved back.

"Sure are a lot of seafood restaurants here, huh?" Owen noted at least three nearby. 'Spe-Shell Dishes', 'Crabulous Meals', and 'Shrimply the Best'. Of course, he immediately jumped to the conclusion that allergies weren't a thing here. It was essentially heaven, after all. What was he gonna do, die twice?

"That's the one thing we put in all the neighbourhoods. I don't know what to say, everyone loves at least one kind of seafood. Especially shellfish." Michael paused and looked at his watch, which to Owen looked like it was glowing bright white and hadn't been there a minute ago. "Oh! The movie is about to start, you should go sit down." Michael pointed to rows of seats that were starting to fill in and Owen jogged over to grab one near the front.

Everyone else filled in the remaining seats and just as the last person settled in, a video started playing seemingly midair. It explained how it was decided that everyone got into the Good Place.

Honestly, Owen was still wondering how the hell he got in. Only the best of the best got in, and… he wasn't that good, was he? People always told him that. Not that long ago he had started to realize that the AM didn't really do good work after certain events happened that made him feel a deep, almost physically painful guilt when he tried to think about them.

"Soulmates are real." The video broke back through his thoughts with that as Michael explained that everyone's soulmate was there with them. He looked around and a woman winked at him, and he waved back nervously. She didn't feel like she was his soulmate. How could anyone here be his soulmate when he was still in love with someone else, someone who was hopefully still living her life on Earth?

The video ended after a cute joke about the Good Place being sponsored by otters holding hands. As soon as he got up, Michael was walking next to him again and explaining how every single millimeter of the neighborhood was perfect.

"Also, everyone gets a house that perfectly matches their essence. Yours is just around the corner." Michael seemed extra excited about this part as they turned past a small forest. 

A large grey building came into view. It had small windows and industrial-looking doors, looking eerily like a smaller version of the AM. There weren't even any flowers around it like he had always pictured his dream house to have. Not even one.

"This… matches my essence?" Owen questioned as Michael stopped to admire it.

"Do– do you not like it?" Michael sounded a bit heartbroken, like a child whose parents said their art wasn't good enough to go on the fridge. Owen blinked a few times and forced a smile.

"Of course I like it! I was just surprised to see what my 'essence' looked like," he lied, not wanting to upset the being who probably worked really hard to make this. Michael smiled, relieved, and led Owen inside.

The doors were heavy, Owen noticed when Michael accidentally hit him with one. Owen had expected this inside to be more enjoyable for him than the outside, but it wasn't.

The furniture in the living room looked similar to the furniture in his apartment on Earth, which he had never been very fond of. Actually, it looked a lot like his apartment, the only difference being the white unfurnished walls and the doors to other rooms that were identical to the front door. As well as the giant wall-mounted TV across from the couch, which was definitely not a thing he owned in life.

"You can use this TV to watch every moment of your life from your point of view. Every good thing you did, all right here." Michael picked up the remote and pressed a button, bringing up a clip of Owen's childhood dog running around happily while holding a squeaky toy. Owen smiled softly at that.

The happy memory was interrupted by a knock at the door. Michael switched the TV off, handing the remote to Owen and opening the door, chatting briefly with the person behind it.

"Yes, your soulmate is here. Come on in." Owen turned to the door, both excited and hesitant. On one hand, he was meeting his soulmate. On the other hand, the person he was in love with was still alive, not here with him.

Or so he thought before she walked into his new home, immediately taking a step back, startled.

"Owen?"

"Joan?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations happen, and there's another cliffhanger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok here you go finally

Joan and Owen stared at each other, neither of them really knowing what to say. What could you say when you died and now you were standing in front of your ex, who is apparently your actual soulmate for all of eternity?

Michael, who had been grinning silently at them, said something about going to check on other residents and left them alone in the fluorescently-lit living room.

"So…" Owen rocked back and forth on his heels uncomfortably. "How are you?"

"Not forking great, Green. Wait, what? Fork. Why can't I– what the fork?" Joan was distracted by the fact that she couldn't swear no matter how hard she tried.

Owen just waited while she let out a string of censored curses, kind of grateful to postpone the conversation he would have to have with her, even if only for a minute or two.

After trying every curse word in her vocabulary, she sighed and crossed her arms in annoyance. How was she supposed to accurately describe her anger towards him if she couldn't use profanity?

The therapist part of her brain told her that using foul language would actually be worse because she would be using it to avoid healthy discussion, but what did the therapist part of her brain know? 

"Anything in particular bothering you?" Owen was trying to tread lightly, but it was difficult to establish boundaries in a situation like this. She normally hated him asking her personal questions, but now they were soulmates, so he might be entitled to that.

Clearly it wasn't the right thing to ask because she snapped at him immediately, "I'm forking dead, Owen! And apparently you're supposed to be my soulmate which, as you know, is not a concept I enjoy." 

Owen bit back a remark about how at one point she had called him her soulmate, taking a deep breath. If he would be spending eternity with her, he wanted to start it in the right way, not with a yelling match.

"Would you like to sit down?" He offered instead, gesturing to the brown couch that was brand new but looked like it was from the 40s.

"I– yeah. Okay." Joan exhaled slowly and walked over to the couch, sitting down and being surprised by how uncomfortable it was. It looked just like the one in his apartment, but that had been comfortable. Owen was equally surprised by the complete lack of comfort provided in literal heaven.

Neither of them wanted to speak first, leaving them in a silence that was less than pleasant. One of the lights buzzed loudly above them. It was assumed that in the world created to be their reward for being good people, the lights wouldn't buzz just like they always did on Earth.

"So… I know we didn't leave on the best note," Owen started.

"Oh, you mean when you knew my brother was being experimented on and didn't tell me for months?" Joan snapped, making Owen uncomfortable enough to start staring at a point on the floor to avoid making eye contact.

"I– Yes, that was bad. I should have told you. I'm sorry." He didn't look up, able to physically feel how she was glaring at him.

"Sorry doesn't fix the fact that I never got the chance to save him, and now I'm dead and he'll probably die there." She sounded like she might start to cry and Owen looked at her, this time not seeing rage, but guilt and sadness. As well as rage, of course.

He tentatively reached a hand out and put it on her shoulder comfortingly, surprised when she didn't object or even complain. She almost leaned into it, blinking back tears. 

"I'm really sorry, Joan. I know that doesn't fix it, and nothing can, but I really am sorry." She sniffled and closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath and sitting up straighter. This time she moved backward slightly so Owen would have to move his hand, though she didn't have the energy to tell him off for it.

"Thank you. Um, so… how did– how did you die?" What else was she supposed to do, ask how work was going? They were dead, there was no work. 

Owen stared at her for a few seconds after realizing that he didn't remember how he died. It hadn't even crossed his mind this whole time.

"I don't remember, I– that's weird. Do you remember how you…?" He couldn't say the word.

Joan seemed hesitant to answer, "I do. Actually, I had to ask Michael. I don't need to tell you what happened." She shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, of course you don't need to tell me! You can tell me whenever you're ready. Or not at all, that would be okay too." Owen reminded himself that he had eternity to make Joan not hate him, assuming that she couldn't hold a grudge forever. Which she probably could, and he would probably deserve that.

Before he could dwell on that for too long, there was a ding and a woman appeared in front of the couch, dressed like a flight attendant. Joan jumped and Owen froze, startled.

"Michael has suggested that you go greet your neighbours since they're hosting a party tonight to welcome everyone," she said cheerfully. 

Owen blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't dreaming and asked who she was, wondering how she just appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm Janet! I'm the neighbourhood assistant. I can answer any question you might have. Please feel free to ask me anything!" Janet said, grinning.

"I think we're good for now, Janet. Thank you, though. We'll go visit our neighbours," Joan dismissed. Janet disappeared with another ding.

Owen and Joan left to go very briefly visit their new neighbours. Emphasis on very briefly, because they wanted to spend as much time as possible relaxing and enjoying their afterlife. Eventually they would visit their fellow dead people, but they didn't want to do it right away. Too much to talk about and figure out first.

They walked up to the door of the modern mansion, wondering what kind of pretentious soul someone would have to have to have this match their essence. Once they rang the doorbell there was a pause, then the sound of someone knocking something over before the door opened.

In another world, maybe there would've been a cliché scene similar to Owen seeing Joan again a short time ago. Instead, Joan just sort of stared at Sam, who had just opened the door, and Sam stared back.

Owen also stood there, slightly recognizing Sam and her slightly recognizing him. They had only met maybe once in person, which almost made it stranger to run into each other in the afterlife, of all places.

"Joan," Sam eventually said, with no intention to continue the sentence. 

"Sam," Joan said, intending to continue the sentence but not knowing how to.

Owen resisted the urge to say his own name, as it was the only one that hadn't been said yet. He did this entirely because in a few seconds something emotional would happen and he didn't want to ruin it as he often tended to (usually accidentally) do on Earth. First step of getting to stay in the Good Place, provided he didn't belong there: be good.

"It's good to see you," Sam paused and took a breath, "like, it's  _ really  _ good to see you. This is… crazy, right?" She gestured vaguely at the house and then at everything else.

Joan laughed, "it is. I– I… how are you even here?" An irrational question that was easier than jumping to the obvious conclusion.

"Same as you, I guess, provided you also died," Sam sighed, "god, this is  _ so  _ weird."

"I agree. But it's nice to see you? I mean, not here, obviously, just in general." Joan awkwardly shuffled her feet a bit. Owen did the same, feeling like he was intruding on this 'reunion'.

"Yeah…" Sam trailed off and only then seemed to notice Owen standing uncomfortably off to the side. They accidentally made eye contact and he sort of smiled at her. 

"Hello, Sam." He attempted to act like this was a normal situation.

"Uh, hi, Agent Green. Do you guys– do you wanna come in?" Sam opened the door wider and Joan decided to take the invitation, meaning that Owen also accepted, albeit a bit hesitantly.

The inside of the house was well lit, a large chandelier casting a warm glow over the main room. There was two staircases that led to the second floor, so new that they were shiny. On the table next to the door there was a tipped-over house plant, dirt spilled onto the floor. Owen gently stood it back up, worried that the plant might get damaged if it was on its side any longer.

Sam led them into the living room, which looked like a bigger version of her living room on Earth. The furniture was uncomfortable, but not as much as Owen's was, which he noted with slight annoyance as he sat down. He also noted that Joan purposely sat as far from him as she could.

Sam and Joan started talking about how their houses were totally wrong and definitely didn't feel like their "essences" embodied properly. Owen kept almost opening his mouth to speak and stopping himself.

"So, have you met your soulmate yet?" Joan asked. 

"No, not yet, but apparently Michael will be bringing them over later. He says I've met them before which is weird, since I haven't met a lot of people." Sam tried to imagine who her soulmate could be and couldn't think of anyone she ever really considered in that way.

"I sure hope they're better than my soulmate," Joan attempted to speak quietly so Owen wouldn't hear her, even though he was only five feet away.

"I am  _ right here,  _ Joan," he said, offended. Even if he knew she had the right to not want him as her soulmate. 

"And what about it?" She crossed her arms, glaring at him. He was about to say something back and almost definitely turn it into a loud argument, only being interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Sam jumped up from her seat, excited and nervous.

"It's probably my soulmate!" She exclaimed, running into the other room to answer the door. Joan and Owen sat in uncomfortable silence, not making eye contact.

Michael's voice carried through the hallway and into the living room, "Sam, this is your soulmate, Mark."

Joan, upon hearing this, suppressed the urge to sprint to the other room. It was a common name. The chances of it being her brother were low, and even then, it would mean he was dead.

Owen shifted uncomfortably, both hoping it was the Mark he knew because it would make Joan happy to see him again, and  _ really  _ hoping it wasn't, because the last time he saw that Mark wasn't great.

Owen and Joan glanced at each other, a shared moment of anticipation before they found out whether their assumptions were correct or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is the cliffhanger super obvious and therefore not suspenseful? yeah. do i care enough to change it? no i really just wanted to get this chapter out tbh


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation, a discussion, a party, and another confrontation. Plus, a duck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide mention (briefly, not a canon character), fire

"Sure, uh, come on in, Mark. I have some company over but I promise they're nice, I knew them on Earth," Sam explained, walking towards the living room with Mark following her and admiring the house as they walked. He was too mesmerized to speak, always a fan of interesting parts of buildings. He couldn't wait to take pictures of all of this.

They walked into the living room and Mark's eyes darted from the fancy lighting on the ceiling to Joan sitting on the couch and then back to the lights for a brief moment, not fully comprehending the situation right away. He focused back on Joan, who was staring back at him, frozen.

"Joanie?" He whispered it, hand reached out slightly towards her and too afraid to move any closer in case it wasn't real.

"Mark!" She stood up, taking a slow step towards him and then suddenly crossing the distance, throwing her arms around him and shutting her eyes tightly so the tears wouldn't fall. He looked down at her, freeing his arms from her embrace so he could hug back. 

They stayed like that for a minute, maybe two, happy to see each other again. It had been a long time, after all. A very long time.

Eventually Joan pulled back, still gently holding one of Mark's arms like he might disappear again. There were tears sparkling in her eyes.

"It's good to see you again," he said, smiling wide. Joan smiled back until she realized something, her expression turning sad.

"Mark, you… you died," she said as if he didn't know. He tensed, taking a small step back.

"Uh, yeah. I did. It's actually a– a funny story, y'know, I–" Mark stopped, his gaze trailing to Owen, who accidentally made eye contact and froze like a deer in headlights. "What the fork is he doing here?"

Mark brushed past Joan, walking towards Owen, who scooted backwards on the couch in anticipation of Mark trying to attack him. That didn't happen, Mark instead stopping at the opposite end of the couch and sighing, taking a deep breath to suppress his anger. He didn't want his soulmate to think he was some crazy, angry person. 

Also, you can't kill someone twice.

"Joan, what the  _ fork  _ is he doing here?" He repeated, sitting on the arm of the couch and closing his eyes to visualize his 'happy place' and only being able to picture his tier 5 cell. He settled for focusing on the nice textured Wall border to avoid losing it.

Joan explained, "he's… also dead. He was actually going to be leaving to go do something, right, Owen?"

Owen looked at her, still a bit out of it, "huh? Oh, yeah, I was just about to go… about to go and leave. I'll see myself out. Thank you, Sam for having me." He stood up and started to leave, rushing to avoid any sort of confrontation with Mark. Obviously he would  _ eventually _ have to, but not when he already had a lot to process right now. Plus he hadn't prepared his apology speech.

"Oh, no problem! See you at the party later, I guess?" Sam asked. She sort of hoped he wouldn't come.

"Maybe. I've got a lot to sort out, and I wouldn't want to intrude, but I might stop by." Owen was almost into the next room, near the end of the hall, had  _ almost  _ avoided this conversation.

"Wait," Mark called out, standing up. Owen stopped and turned around, wishing he had rushed a little more. Mark walked toward him until he was standing at the opposite end of the short hallway, leaning against the wall. He sort of expected Owen to say something, but that never happened, so he took matters into his own hands.

"You're an ashhole. And I don't know how the fork you're even here, considering you are a  _ terrible  _ person, but you really shouldn't be here. At all. You left me down there, and– and you didn't try to help me," Mark's voice shook and he took a step closer to Owen, "you just watched them  _ torture  _ me and experiment on me. You let me die down there." 

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, everyone staring at Owen like they wished he was dead. Except he actually was, so more like they wished he was being tortured or whatever else is worse than death.

Owen just felt frozen. Actually, he didn't feel much at all other than intense shame and guilt. He couldn't even feel the ground under his feet, so trapped in the stifling emotions that he might suffocate in them. Which he'd almost definitely deserve, in his and everyone else in the room's opinions.

Joan was about to speak when Michael and Janet walked in, Michael starting to talk before she got the chance to say anything.

"Sam, Mark, this is Janet. She can help you get everything you need for your party later. Owen and Joan, how about you go explore the neighbourhood while these two set up?" Michael smiled at them, not sensing the tension in the room. Owen still didn't say anything, but Joan walked past him towards the door and he knew to follow. Her being mad at him would be better than being stuck near Mark.

He jogged to keep up with Joan, who was walking aimlessly down a path that they hadn't walked down before. His plan was to wait for her to speak first so that he could try to explain himself, even though he knew there was no explaining it.

Eventually, after what felt like quite a while, Joan stopped at a spot near a river surrounded with lush greenery. There was a duck—maybe a fake plastic duck that was very realistic—floating near the stone arched bridge nearby. Joan watched it for a minute until Owen came to stand beside her.

After a moment she asked, "How could you?"

"I… I don't know. I should've done something," Owen admitted, staring into the cool blue water. This was the same conversation they'd had so many times before, he realized, but it was worse this time. He couldn't say that the AM would eventually let Mark go or that it would help him. 

"But you didn't. You didn't, and they– they  _ killed him.  _ I never thought that the AM could go that far." Joan sighed and gently kicked a small rock so that it tumbled down the slope into the river, the water rippling as it sank to the bottom with a quiet splash.

Owen crossed his arms, watching the duck which was almost definitely fake float around aimlessly. In a way he related to the plastic duck, not belonging in the beautiful surroundings it was a part of.

"They didn't mean to," he said eventually.

"What?"

"To kill Mark. It was an experiment they did, with a class C atypical who was immune to poisons and toxins. They… they administered a poison to both the class C atypical and Mark, and kept them both in tier 5 in cells next to each other. The class C… well, didn't… something happened to them." Owen paused to take a deep breath and stop himself from thinking too much about it. "Which meant that Mark couldn't use their ability anymore. By then the poison had been in Mark's body for so long, that he…" the sentence didn't need to be finished for Joan to know what happened.

"Fork, that's… how do you know all of this?" Joan turned to him, expecting the worst, which would be that he helped with the experiment or even just endorsed it in some way. He continued avoiding looking at her. That would only make the guilt worse, seeing the hurt, angry, and betrayed expression she was wearing.

"Ellie told me. She wanted me to be the one to contact you and tell you," he confessed. 

"And you didn't‽" She had never gotten a call or text. Nothing.

"I would've, I swear, but I didn't exactly get the chance to. In case you forgot, I did actually die," he snapped, "sorry. I don't have the right to be yelling at you right now." Would he normally have apologized? Definitely not. Had he just told her that he knew how her brother died and it was at least slightly his fault? Yes, and that meant he had exactly zero right to be snappy.

"No, you don't. And on the topic of you dying, how the fork are you in the Good Place? Clearly you don't deserve it, you worked for an evil organization for pete's sake! You've lied and caused so much harm,  _ death _ even, and somehow you– you're  _ here. _ " Joan gestured vaguely at the breathtaking utopia around them. 

Unsure of what to really say to that, Owen went silent. She was probably right, he knew that, but what would he do if she was? Accept that he didn't belong here and turn himself in? Hide for the rest of eternity so he wouldn't be sent to the Bad Place? There was no way that he belonged here with the best of people, who didn't hurt others or cause problems. 

"I think you might be right. I don't belong here."

"Clearly."

"No, I'm serious, Joan. I've been thinking about it, and there's no way that I earned enough points to be here. Only the best of the best people are here, right? People who helped others all the time. I… I didn't do that, even if I thought I had been. Something clearly went wrong." Thinking about it made him start overthinking and he started to play with his hands, folding his fingers together and moving them back at forth to focus on that instead of the thought of being tortured in actual hell.

Joan sighed, actually feeling some sympathy for him despite herself. Even he didn't deserve to be tortured for eternity after thinking he would spend the rest of his existence in a utopia. Being tortured for a short while was more of a fitting punishment for him, in her opinion. Just to even out what he had caused others.

Kicking another rock down the slope into the water, she said, "I don't think you belong here either. But I'm not going to tell Michael or anything. On one condition. You have to try to be a better person. I know a little about moral philosophy, and the basic premise is always to help others as much as you can. You have to help people here.  _ Especially  _ Mark. Or else I–I have to tell Michael you don't belong." Knowing that she would be lying to an all-knowing being made her stomach ache a bit.

"Yes. Of course. That's fair, and I'll try my best to do that," Owen agreed. He made a mental note to also learn about moral philosophy so he could be even better.

"Good. I'm still upset, by the way." Joan had to inform him of that in case he somehow thought things were automatically okay now.

"Of course, yes, that makes sense. I deserve that." He sounded the tiniest bit disappointed, unable to hide it. Obviously he knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help it.

There was a ding behind them and they both jumped, turning around to see Janet smiling at them.

"It's almost time for the party! I'd recommend semi-formal outfits in colours that you think suit you best, since the event is aiming to be colourful, fun, and comfortable. See you there!" Janet exclaimed cheerfully, disappearing with another ding immediately after.

The pair walked back towards their houses, Owen stopping outside of his and questioning, "see you at the party?"

"If I must," Joan fake-sighed, exaggerating the tiredness in her voice and then laughing, smiling at Owen and all he could think was  _ wow, she used to smile at me like that all the time, she's really pretty. _

He laughed too, smiling back as he opened the ridiculously heavy door to his house. He didn't stop looking at her until the door closed behind him, at which point he leaned against it and sighed, still smiling and thinking of Joan.

The day wasn't even over yet, and it had been eventful. There wasn't time to think about it yet, though. He stood up straight and went to go find wherever his bedroom was in this house, hoping there was an outfit in the wardrobe that he would like.

Not long later, he was walking into Sam's house, dressed in his signature green collared shirt and simple dress pants. Since he didn't go to a lot of parties—or any at all—he had been slightly worried about being under- or overdressed, but much to his relief, everyone else was dressed mostly similarly to him.

Sam came up to him, handing him a glass of an alcohol that he couldn't identify, but was probably champagne. He thanked her, not taking a sip of it right away.

"Thank you so much for coming. I just wanted to warn you that, um, Mark is definitely still upset at you so you should be careful not to do anything too… Agent Green-y," she recommended, looking around at all the guests to make sure everyone was having a good time.

"What does that– I mean, of course. I'll try my best." Owen smiled warmly and Sam noticed someone new walk in, rushing off with a quick thank you to him. What did she even mean by 'Agent Green-y'? 

Actually, he knew what she meant, and he knew that acting the way he did sometimes would cause more problems than he could fix easily.

After a few minutes of him standing idly by the wall, Joan walked over and joined him there. He smiled at seeing her, a bit of the tension he felt from Sam's comment unravelling.

"What would you bet that someone here died doing something stereotypically heroic?" She asked, looking at the other residents having conversations around the room. Clearly she had talked to a few people already and was at least a bit fed up with their tales of how perfect they were.

"Isn't money not a thing here?" Owen had to assume that it wasn't. Why would it be?

"Oh, shirt, yeah. Shirt. Fork. I am  _ not  _ used to that." Joan laughed and Owen couldn't help but start to smile at her, looking in the other direction so she wouldn't see how absolutely in love with her he was.

Thankfully, he was spared from any awkward questioning by Michael announcing that he'd like to make a toast. Everyone gathered in the next room, surrounding Michael, Sam, Mark, and the buffet table that Owen hadn't known about but wished he could've gotten to right away so he could try what he assumed had to be the finest snacks in the entire universe.

Michael went through a speech about how he was so happy for everyone to be there, and let them in on the secret that this was his first neighbourhood and how an architect normally didn't live alongside the residents like he was. When he mentioned how he was happy that everyone was chosen perfectly for the neighbourhood, Owen cringed a bit knowing that he was the one wrench in the perfect gears of this literal heaven.

"I'd also like to make a toast," Mark announced when Michael was finished, taking his place in the middle of the small gathering of people. Owen and Joan glanced at each other, getting the feeling that this wouldn't be an ordinary declaration of gratitude and happiness.

"First I'd like to thank Michael and Janet, for being the ones to build this amazing neighbourhood," Mark started, seeming genuinely happy, "and then I'd like to thank my amazing soulmate, Sam, who helped me plan this party. And of course my sister, Joanie, who I'm really glad is here with me. I mean, it sucks that she's dead, but at least I'm not completely new here." The crowd laughed collectively. Things were going well so far, and Owen almost thought he was in the clear.

Until Mark turned to him, his smile remaining despite the pure hatred in his eyes.

"But I can't forget dear old Owen, who might I say, is the whole reason I'm here today."  _ Oh shirt.  _ "I mean, seriously, what a great guy. Y'know, the organization that  _ he  _ worked for provided me with free housing for almost five years! Sure it was a little dusty, but how could I complain? It was free. And they made sure to always tell me how lucky I was to be there, and boy was I  _ lucky. _ So let's give our boy Owen here a hand, huh?" The other residents started clapping and Owen felt his face heat up, staring at the floor in shame while everyone applauded him for what they thought were amazing things he did. Joan and Sam shared a look that said ' _ what the fork, Mark?'  _ as everyone else applauded.

Eventually everyone went back to their mingling and an embarrassed Owen found himself genuinely angry at Mark. This was not the time or place for something like that. 

Before he even truly realized what he was doing, he was storming off in the direction Mark had left in to find him and confront him. He found Mark sitting with Sam on a couch in a second living room, both of them laughing. Sam noticed him first and shook her head subtly in the hopes that he would leave.

He ignored her.

"Mark, can I talk to you for a moment?" He queried politely, standing in the doorway. Mark told Sam he would be right back and followed Owen into the next room, which was empty.

"What?" Mark snapped, crossing his arms.

"You didn't need to call me out in front of everyone," Owen stated simply.

Mark scoffed. "You're lucky I didn't say worse. I could've told everyone that you helped the AM keep me in an underground prison like a giraffe in a zoo or something."

"The AM was only trying to help you. I'm sorry if you didn't cooperate and it ended badly for you." Owen honestly didn't know why he was saying the things he was.

"Didn't cooperate? You're saying that it's my fault that I died?" Mark could feel rage bubbling up inside himself. 

"Well, I–" 

Mark cut Owen off. "It's not my fault that you poisoned me. It's not my fault that putting Flynn in tier 5 with me pushed them over the edge and they– they killed themself, leaving me alone to die with nobody who could help me. It's not my fault that you never even  _ tried  _ to get me out of there." Mark was breathing heavily, tears prickling in his eyes. He wanted to hit Owen, do  _ something  _ to make him pay for everything. Owen stepped back in alarm before Mark could even do anything.

"What?" He snapped.

"Mark, you're on fire," Owen responded gently, still backing away. Mark looked down and found that he actually was, hands engulfed in flames. 

"Huh." His anger dissipated out of shock and the flames did not. "That's weird, must be an atypical nearby. I should put this out. Uh…" Mark walked over and tried dipping one of his fingers in the pool of water around the ice statue. When he pulled it out, he was still sufficiently on fire. With a sigh, he rested one hand on the table while thinking of a solution, and realised his mistake almost immediately.

The table was already on fire, anyways. It spread quickly and he jumped back, his hands  _ finally  _ going out as the fire engulfed the decorative shrimp tower.

"That's not good," Owen said obviously.

"Yeah, no shirt, dumbash." Mark continued backing away until he hit the wall, while Owen stood there frozen.

Sam, hearing the crackling of fire, walked in and also froze. She took a half step back and felt herself start to flicker, shaking as she tried (and failed) to take a deep breath. A few seconds later she flickered faster and disappeared, Mark disappearing along with her and leaving Owen alone in the room with the flaming buffet table.

He got an instinct to actually do something and initially wanted to attempt to put it out himself before realizing that was definitely a mistake.

"Janet?" He called, and Janet appeared with a cheerful bing.

"How can I help you, Owen?" She asked as if she was oblivious to the situation.

"The buffet is on fire." She really couldn't have guessed that?

"Oh! Allow me to help with that." There was another ding and a fire extinguisher appeared in Janet's hands, which she used to start putting out the fire while still smiling like this was fine. Owen took the opportunity to slip out of the room before Sam and Mark reappeared. 

He spotted Joan talking to another resident and walked over, pretending to be interested in the conversation about how this resident rescued 53 cats per year. Eventually they walked away and he got the chance to talk to Joan. She saw the look on his face that had  _ 'I have made a mistake' _ written all over it.

"What did you do?" She asked tiredly.

"Well," he drew out the word for as long as he could, "I sort of got into an argument with Mark, and there's an atypical here with a fire-based ability and it activated when he got mad at me, and the buffet table caught on fire, and here we are. Also, I should probably leave before he gets back."

"Wh– where did he go?"

"Um… back in time with Sam, I'm assuming? She saw the fire and started to panic." He spoke as quickly as possible so he wouldn't have to deal with the guilt of all of this for too long. The sooner he could get the words out, the sooner he could leave.

"Owen, seriously?" Joan facepalmed internally and set down her drink on a nearby table. "Let's get out of here. You have to, and I want to before anything else happens." They walked out the door into the dark but somehow still well-lit outside. It also wasn't cold nor warm, which was appreciated by both of them, not having brought jackets.

When they got to Owen's house they stopped, Owen standing outside his door with his hand on the door handle.

"I'll start being a better person tomorrow," he attempted to joke. 

"You better," Joan muttered, turning to walk away. This time Owen didn't watch her, just went inside and leaned tiredly against the door for a minute before trudging to his room and immediately crawling into bed, not even bothering to change. If this was really heaven, his clothes wouldn't be wrinkled in the morning.

He woke up in the morning to loud noise outside his window and got up, adjusting his glasses on his face and walking to open the curtains. As soon as he did, the noise seemed to get louder and also turned out to be the commotion of stampeding giraffes, giant ducks, flying shrimp, and Break Free by Ariana Grande.

Something told him that wasn't good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter so far and I finally reached the point that would've been the end of episode 1. I kind of meant for it to be the same number of chapters as the episodes, but writing is hard, so whoops. Thank you for reading!


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